


Porcelain Smile

by TheCreativeCasseroles



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Abuse, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Found Family, Gaslighting, Gen, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It gets bad guys, It gets better before it gets worse, Manipulation, Protective Alfred Pennyworth, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Damian Wayne, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Tim Drake, Tim Drake Has a Bad Time, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Tim is born super small guys, Tiny Tim - Freeform, Very Tiny Tim here, big time, happy ending I promise, it’s like a roller coaster
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22124302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCreativeCasseroles/pseuds/TheCreativeCasseroles
Summary: Little Timothy lives in Gotham. Little Timothy finds out his neighbor is Batman and that the man’s ward is Robin. Little Timothy follows them around the city. Little Timothy watches the Robin transform into a new bird as a new boy becomes the new Robin. Little Timothy doesn’t get caught.Little Timothy cries with the news that the second Robin dies. Little Timothy sees how the Batman and the man behind the mask does not do well. Little Timothy forces himself into the masked night life. Little Timothy learns about a Red Hood stalking the Gotham streets at night.Everyone knows this.They do not know, however, how Little Timothy… is a little bit cursed.
Relationships: Jack Drake/Janet Drake, Janet Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 90
Kudos: 360





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… Hi! I’m quick letting you know that this story will probably won’t do well with some readers due to Tim’s parents. Believe me when I say that you and I both want Bruce to adopt Tim ASAP!
> 
> Also I’d like to thank SimonSaying for helping me out and letting me know any grammar or spelling mistakes I had!
> 
> Anyway, enough rambling. Catch ya at the end of the chapter for more info!

“Mother?” Timothy asks as he fixes his bed.

Silk curtains were pulled back by tidy little bows, silver mirror was polished to shine, clothes made by skillful hands were folded away, and all surfaces were dusted as well as polished, much like the mirror. Not a single thing was out of place. Not even the beautiful paintings were askew. The room felt empty however. Despite the fact that there was a wall filled to the brim with books, there were no toys. No nicknacks. However Timothy was okay with this. He was okay with a lot of things.

A soft hum answers him.

“Where’s father?”

A woman’s cold voice says, “he’s currently at the office. Apparently they needed Jack in person. That’s why we came home early, remember?”

Timothy did not remember his parents telling him that fact. “I’m sorry, mother.” He still says anyways.

His mother hums once more.

Cloth shifting. Body turning. Loud clacks filled Timothy’s room and head. Strong perfume becomes stronger. The footsteps stopped. He can hear her breathe.

“Even if you did forget Timothy,” his mother says, voice both simultaneously loud and quiet, “I’m sure you haven’t forgotten the promise.”

“No mother,” he admitted. He had not, in fact, forgotten. How could he? It was the most exciting thing to have ever happened to him.

He heard it before it could even start. The slight groan of the house and then the telltale click of a lock unlocking. Gentle tremors rocked throughout the house as his room split in two. The side Timothy was on stayed in place while the other side slowly swung away from him.

And there, standing in front of the split house, was a gorgeous giant woman with voluminous black hair and the most frigid blue eyes that anyone would have ever seen. Her lips were painted a blood red and her skin was as pale as porcelain. A most expensive necklace made of fine red jewels and diamonds adorned her neck. Similar earrings pierced her ears. Her dress was elegant, but simple for where she planned to go. It had matched her jewels, but not in a way that looked gaudy or horrid. She looked, if one thought about it, as if Snow White had become the evil stepmother.

(Of course, Timothy didn’t think this. It would be rude of him to think so. His very last nanny, on the other hand, might have had such a thought.)

Heart pounding, Timothy stood perfectly still as his mother’s hand reached for him. Her other one held her purse.

Ever so gently, red manicured nails tilted his oh so petite face up further to his mother’s face. “Do be a doll,” Janet Drake whispers, “and settle down for mother.”

And just like that, Timothy Drake lets himself flop down fully into his mother’s hand. Blue eyes staring forward. A pleasant smile plastered to his face. He could hear his mother hum in satisfaction.

“Rag doll is what we’re doing today, hm?” She said as she moved Timothy closer to her purse. “Well, make sure you don’t flop away. You just might break.”

He doesn’t blink. Instead he takes slow, shallow breaths. He makes sure his heartbeat goes at a calm rate. He hopes it’s enough.

“We must work on that heartbeat, Timothy. I can feel it through your clothing,” his mother scolds him.

Fear strikes through him. Perhaps it wasn’t enough…?

“However,” she continues, “a deal is a deal. We just have to make sure no one holds you.”

Relief floods through him. Timothy’s smile becomes a tad more genuine. As he gets put into a special pocket on the side of his mother’s purse, Timothy thinks that this may possibly be the best day ever.

After all, it’s the first time he gets to go outside.

Timothy was a special boy you see. A very special boy.

So special, that his parents hid him away from the world. They couldn’t, however, keep the world hidden away from _him._

Even as he was tucked into his mother’s purse, he could _hear_ the world around him. Even as they got into a car. Even if everything became so muffled, Timothy could still hear it. And even though the scent of his mother’s perfume was overpowering, he could still catch the undertones of fresh air, newly cut grass, and… perhaps brand new car.

Timothy knew the first two smells for when the maids would open the windows during cleaning. Brand new car, however… he wasn’t quite sure how he knew that it’s what it smelt like.

This however… it smelt like his father’s leather chair that he wasn’t allowed to sit in. Mother and father had told him that his hands and shoes could dirty it should he do so. But if his father was sitting in it, and was in a good mood, he would let Timothy sit on his lap or even on his shoulder. A small hint of gasoline mixed with what smelt like the brand new carpet they had gotten after a rude guest at their last party had gotten their sick all over. But it was the leather and the carpet scent that prevailed over the gasoline. He thinks there was something else, but he wasn’t quite sure.

But all of this surely means this was a new car. It might’ve been because his parents hardly used their cars. Or they would only use the newest and the best cars that just came out. Be it just introduced or straight out of the factory; it didn’t matter. That’s not to say they didn’t have any older, classic, cars either. As long as it looked and acted just the same as it did when it was made, it was fine. Or at least, this is what he has been told.

A rumbling broke Timothy out of his spiraling thoughts. He mentally scolded himself for letting his mind get so carried away. It was unbefitting for him to do such a thing.

Turning his attention back outwards, he noticed how the purse vibrated. How the contents within slightly rattled and jingaled. Of soft clanks. How he would press closer and further from the walls of the pocket. Ever so slightly would the purse shift from side to side. And how… how they would slow down or speed up. How they would _stop._

They were _driving!_

And he began to hear _it._ More cars! Beeping and rumbling of others passing by.

Timothy couldn’t help it. He let his heart pound. He let it pound _fast._

They were outside! They were in Gotham! _Timothy was in Gotham!_

If Timothy were a different child, he would shed tears of pure joy.

Instead he let his smile grow a tad wider.

He let himself enjoy the wonders of the car ride. But it ended all too soon for him. For what felt like the next thing he knew, the car stopped. It sounded so silent, with the purring of the car gone. And yet it sounded much louder. He heard his mother unbuckle. He felt how she picked her purse back up, and he felt how she got out of the car.

With the barrier known as a car gone, everything became more clear. Not as clear as it would’ve been had he been out of his mother’s purse, but was clearer nonetheless.

He could hear many different voices. The clacking of different types of shoes hitting the pavement. The occasional laughter. By older people. By younger people. By _children_ with their family or friends. The honking of multiple cars were much more prominent as well as the sounds of motorcycles revving up to go faster. It sounded… it all sounded just like in the movies and shows he was allowed to watch and listen to.

The smell was less than desirable. It was a stench of something… acidic. It was all the things he couldn’t quite place. He imagines that this is what cheap cigarettes smelt like. Perhaps, due to the fact that his mother’s perfume seems to be dispersing, he could smell all these things. He thinks he smells something like food as well.

It was all so much. It was all so glorious.

But much like the car ride, it ended all too soon.

A different type of sounds were heard, as the purse bobbed up and down since his mother walked with a purpose. It was the sound of a door opening and closing, of soft small talk. Of phones ringing. Paper shuffling.

He could only smell his mother’s perfume.

And then they stopped moving.

“What floor is my husband on.” The muffled voice of his mother demanded.

“Mrs. Drake!” Another muffled voice spoke, sounding startled. It sounded young. Possibly male, but Timothy wasn’t too sure. “Mr. Drake should be back shortly as he had to head out for a moment. My apologies, Mrs. Drake.”

Timothy wondered what his father was doing.

He couldn’t wonder long, as that next moment the world exploded into chaos.

A deep rumble shook Timothy to the core. He never felt anything so powerful in his life. Nor had he ever heard anything so loud as the screams of people outside of the purse.

He didn’t hear his mother scream.

He _felt,_ however, a great jolt. There was the oddest sensation for what felt like an eternity. It was as if his stomach had moved upward. It had felt… like… like it was being tickled? And his whole body. It was almost as if he was floating.

And then with a great thud, everything stopped.

For this whole thing Timothy stayed… perfectly… still… but his heart. Oh his heart nearly froze. His voice nearly ripped itself out of his throat. He very nearly _flinched._

He tried to process what happened. Timothy thinks that perhaps his mother had dropped her purse. Had dropped _him._ But that couldn’t be. The mere idea was inconceivable. Yet here he was, with said idea. It was true that Janet Drake had an iron grip on her things. However with such a surprise such as… whatever had happened, Timothy could understand how she was unable to keep a hold on him.

He couldn’t help but think, as he heard the noises of panic, that everything was happening all so fast. His car ride, his arrival to his father’s work place. This.

It was supposed to be his day. His day to see the world around him.

If Timothy were a different child, he would shed tears of pure sorrow.

But it was incredibly important for him to stay perfectly still. To hardly heave a single breath. To keep his heartbeat so slow, it would be almost as if it was never there. In order to survive, Timothy must stay a perfect little doll.

A perfect little doll, that begins to slowly slide, to his horror. It dawns on him that the purse had landed just so that Tim was… was sliding out of _his pocket._

Timothy never leaves his pocket without his mother’s permission.

 _‘Mother and Father would be furious with me,’_ he thinks as his foot hit free air. _‘Simply furious. But they would be even more so if I make a move to stay within.’_

Timothy is nothing but a doll that is falling out of a purse pocket. Timothy hates it. Timothy is resigned to his fate.

Timothy slides even more awkwardly downward and out until… his whole body manages to pop out.

Like the rag doll that he is, he tumbled down the expensive purse, world around him whirling around. It wasn’t long until his body rolls to a stop on the cold, hard tile flooring. His limbs were awkwardly splayed around him. His head was tilted to the side. He kept on looking in one direction. He kept on smiling.

He… he was outside of his pocket. He was outside. He was in another building, this is true, _but he was really, truly, outside._

Mother and Father had kept their word, and everything was ruined. From his day to the room around him. He could see it, thick vines were sprouting from the floors, walls, and the ceiling itself. He wouldn’t be surprised if it was in other parts of the building. What surprised him the most, however, was the fact that the vines kept on _growing._ Flowers of different sizes and colors popped open and leaves flourished all around him.

A memory faded into his mind. His last nanny had showed him a movie from before he was born. About a boy stuck within a game for years. At some point, a whole rainforest had grown inside the mansion that they were in. Vines like these had crawled from various places and deadly flowers bloomed.

But that was just a movie. This was real life.

And yet here he was. Watching plants grow at an astonishing rate.

It was then that he realized that it was completely silent. The only thing he could hear was the creaking of the building and the slithering of growing flora. He could possibly be alone.

Does this mean… does this mean he could move? Find a way to escape? To find his mother? No. Surely not. If he did then he would be in even more trouble than he currently was going to be in.

Everything spiraled out of control so fast. He didn’t know what to do.

At least the air began to smell sweet. Taking a small breath in, he could tell that the flowers that were now fully opened were giving off a scent. It wasn’t like any of his mother’s perfumes. They weren’t strong either, but it was noticeable to him. It was soft, if a scent could be soft, and it was sweet. Not quite like honey or sugar. Timothy wasn’t quite sure how to explain it.

Whatever it was, it seemed to have calmed him down. But then… Timothy began to feel odd. And without his permission, his heart began to pound harder than his mother would allow. Everything started to feel hot. And his clothes… felt far too tight.

Just like lighting striking outside his window, pain struck him suddenly and without any warning.

Timothy screamed. It hurt far more than anything the children did to him, thinking that he was a common play thing. If his mother saw him right now, she would be deeply displeased. But he couldn’t help it. He was just _hurting_ and he didn’t know _why._

He screamed and he screamed and he screamed. He could’ve sworn he heard something pop. But it was hard to hear when his voice was echoing even in his head.

And then it all stopped.

Sobs escaped from his throat as he belatedly realized that not only he had shut his eyes, but tears were leaking out of them. He also realized that he had curled up into a ball… and that he felt incredibly cold.

Ever so slowly did he open his eyes.

There was even more flowers in bloom, and the vines have crept ever so closer.

Except… except everything was smaller? Breath catching, he let his eyes wander.

Smaller flowers, smaller vines, smaller leaves… smaller tiles, smaller windows, smaller doors and chairs. Finally he let his eyes wander down to his body, trying to figure out what was making him so cold…

Only, to his complete and utter embarrassment, he was naked!

“Wha-“ Timothy stopped himself short before he could finish that word.

How in the world did this happen? And _what_ exactly happened?

He… he had to do something. Timothy already broken so many rules that he might as well break them all.

Slowly, and feeling rather weak, Timothy uncurled himself… and stood up. His legs wobbled, his body swayed. He had nearly fallen over just doing this act. He felt _heavy._ And the room around him was much smaller now that he was standing up.

Looking down, however, he could see… scraps of his clothing. His shoes.

Mother _and_ Father would be _very_ displeased by this.

And then there was mother’s purse… mother’s purse which was still intact. Timothy had to give it back to his mother.

So he picked it up. It was… heavier than expected. That shouldn’t surprise him.

Holding his mother’s purse, in a way that could cover him, Timothy looked for a way to escape. It wouldn’t do well if someone were to find a naked boy holding a woman’s purse. He thinks that it would get him in trouble with not only his mother, but perhaps the authorities. Perhaps they would think he stole it.

Timothy frowned at possibility. That wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all.

This was shaping up to be the worst ninth birthday ever in the history of existence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey… so that happened. Okay so let’s get the low down. If y’all know me for my other DC stuff, I’m going to go back to Two for the Price of One soon…ish… listen, I just wanted some Tiny Tim content and this ended up being created and it’s awful. And don’t get me started on the characters! But of course I just might spoil something if I get too into it. But yeah, I couldn’t get this idea out of my head. I’m still working on it, and got some chapters down already, but I don’t know how long this would be. Expect time skips tho. I’m definitely doing that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this now because I have no sense of control haha
> 
> Anyway, knowing me, I’ll probably end up posting what I got for chapters close together. And then y’all will have to wait ages for the next installment and for that I’m apologizing in advance. So with that out of the way, I hope you’ll enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Oh, and once again, thank you SimonSays for helping me out with this chapter!

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. _Breathe._

He made himself relax before plunging in. He could do this. He could do this.

Timothy had found a side door. One that was left untouched by all the vines. He knew he couldn’t go out the front door. Too much attention. So when he found the side door, he knew it was where he needed to go.

One hand clutched his mother’s purse, while the other reached for the oddly shaped door knob. It was like a cylinder rather than a regular circular one. One end was attached with more metal to the door, while the rest of it stuck out to the side, towards the center of the door. It looked very odd. Perhaps Timothy saw a similar design in one of the newer movies or shows he was allowed to watch, but he wasn’t too sure.

He didn’t know how to twist it. _That_ was the problem.

The only way to know was through trial and error.

He tried twisting it up, counterclockwise. It didn’t move.

He frowned. Then he tried twisting it down, clockwise. It moved!

Timothy smiled at that. Now the question was if it was a push or a pull. Pulling was the most common way to open a door, Timothy felt, so he did just that with a mighty heave.

And it worked!

It was true that there would be a fifty/fifty chance with each outcome, but it was still nice to be able to figure it out.

Of course there was also the fifty/fifty chance that it was locked. Which it wasn’t.

But no matter how lucky Tim got, it all came down to just that. Luck. And Tim was sure that he would run out of it soon enough.

But maybe luck was still on his side as the door had led him outside… to an empty alleyway.

Very cautiously did he step out.

It was… strange. The cement, for that’s what it had to be, was cold like the tiles within the building. But it wasn’t smooth. It was rough with small, not quite sharp, pebbles scattered around. It did hurt his feet, Timothy would admit, but it was so _interesting._ True he never really got to feel cement before, since he went into the garage once or twice in his life with adult supervision and thus either in their hands or on their shoulders, but seeing and hearing about characters within stories scrape their hands or chins or anything really against the material and getting hurt? It never really connected. After all, seeing it and experiencing it are two different things.

Sirens were going off close by. People were screaming or yelling, but that sounded further away. Honking of horns or the screeching of cars suddenly stopping seemingly bounced around the buildings he was nestled between.

The air felt warm, but a cool breeze washed the heat away. Being in the building’s shadow most likely helped keep the temperature down. Not only that, but the air smelt just like from when he was in his mother’s purse… but stronger. There was a faint scent of the flowers, yet it was fading rather fast.

Not as fast as the door, closing shut. In fact it was closing rather slowly. Yes it took some of Timothy’s strength to open it. However it closed as if the hinges could only go so fast.

Timothy thinks that might be a security hazard or something of the like.

He stared at it for a moment, watching it as it slowly, slowly, sealed his fate. As long as it was still open, Timothy was sure that he could go back inside… if he so chooses. Unfortunately Timothy had made up his mind. No going back inside for him.

Turning his attention back to the alleyway, he was slightly surprised by how clean it was. Usually in the movies or the like they would have garbage around. Although Timothy shouldn't've thought that it truly happens in real life.

And yet there were the giant plants… and Timothy being able to suddenly grow in size…

Perhaps this was just an outliner.

Behind him the door finally shut with a small, audible click. It might as well have been a big bang or even a clock chiming, signifying that his time was up and his fate had been sealed.

And then the whole building began to groan. Timothy… did not like the sound of that. He needed to get away. Fast.

Quickly looking around, he saw how one end led to the street, all bright with sunlight, while the other went further into alleyways, darkened by shadows. If Timothy went to the street he would get noticed right away…

Another groan.

He bolted down into the darker path.

His heart pounded to the beat of his feet slapping against the hard cement. Its rough surface and all those pebbles bit at the soles of his feet. Closed dumpsters, opened dumpsters, buildings made out of concrete, buildings made out of steel, they all flew past as Timothy ran. Turning corners, Timothy seemed to get lost in a maze unknown to him.

He… he had to slow down…

His breathing was heavy, just like his whole body. Feet were hurting, legs were trembling… his hand clutched his mother’s purse as if it were a lifeline. His heart felt like it wanted to burst out of his chest.

Looking around him, Timothy could tell that he was no longer in the same area as his parent's company building. Instead the area he was in was more like the how the media had shown. Trash from paper to broken bottles littered the ground as dirt clung to the bricks that made up the buildings around him. There were rusty fire escapes, and the most repulsive scent he has ever encountered.

It was absolutely rancid. Bitter and sharp. It made his nose curl and his whole face grimace. There was the possibility that the smell was coming from the overflowing dumpsters, yet it was as if it were emitting from the alley itself. It was becoming too much.

Timothy needed to find his parents.

The buildings surrounding him weren’t as tall as the one he came out of, but they were still tall enough to hide him in the shadows.

(Even grown, the world was just as big as he imagined.)

Looking around, Timothy could only find one way to go. Forward.

Forward he went. Slowly, slowly, the shadows lessened, and light began to trickle through the buildings. Through chimney tops and laundry hanging from strings. Tilting his head up just so, Timothy could see blue skies hiding behind smoke and clouds. And as the buildings became shorter and shorter, Timothy began to see something grow.

There, not as far as Timothy had originally thought, was Drake Industries. Glass glinted like still water in the sunlight as the grey materials that made up its outsides contrasted the stunning green of _giant_ vines growing inside it, outside of it, curling around it like some sort of parasite. Much like vines growing on trees, it was squeezing it. Finding holds in order for it to support itself as it would suck the nutrients out of its host. But what type of nutrients would vines find from a building?

As Timothy stared at it, the more he could see the leaves unfurl. The little dots of color that were more than likely flowers blooming if they weren’t already in bloom. Wind blew by, as evidenced by the clouds and smoke drifting by faster, and Timothy saw how the petals began to drift away.

Never in his short life had Timothy seen such a thing.

It was beautiful.

“Hey!” A male voice shouted, scaring Timothy half to death.

Whipping his head over to the voice, Timothy saw a man and woman at the end of the alleyway. Their backs were to the light. Their fronts were shrouded in shadow.

Timothy had been _seen._

Trembling, Timothy took a step back.

The man and woman took a step closer.

Wind blows from the entrance of the alleyway… and a familiar scent reaches Timothy’s nose.

Timothy hesitates. “Mother…? Father…?” He calls out, voice shaky.

He sees the male figure stiffen. The female figure took that as a cue to walk closer… The shadows seemed to melt away from her face as she moved her way closer to him. And then he saw it.

She was his mother.

Standing in front of him, his mother… was so much smaller than he was used to. Yet she still stood so tall that he had to crane his neck to see her face. Timothy stared in awe.

Her smaller hand cupped his face.

“Timothy.” She said, tone clipped. “You’ve gown.”

Timothy swallowed his own saliva. “Yes mother.” He responded.

Her eyes glanced over him. His body. “You’re naked.”

Blood rushed to his face. “Yes mother. Whatever made me grow in size didn’t make my clothes grow with me. I’m sorry, mother.”

She just stared at him.

“I also kept your purse.” He said before holding it up to show her, quickly covering himself with his other hand.

Mother sniffed. “So you did.” Turning her head back to the entrance she called out. “Jack! Come here!”

So the man was his father.

Timothy’s father ran up to the duo, quickly taking off his suit coat. Just like with mother, Timothy stared at his father in awe. Just as always Jack Drake was taller than Janet Drake, but was smaller than Timothy was used to.

No. Timothy was bigger than he was used to.

“Tim, you’re naked! And you’re out here in this dirty alleyway! Look at you! You’re shivering!” Father scolded him. He looked… panicked compared to mother’s cool, calm appearance.

Timothy wasn’t aware of the fact he was shivering. But now that he was, he realized that he was shivering quite a bit.

Quickly he took mother’s purse from Timothy in order to properly put his coat on the now shivering boy. Timothy let himself get dressed up. It was better than nothing.

He pulled the coat closer, taking in the scent of his father’s calonge that had embedded itself into the suit’s jacket. It was calming and warm. The whole thing seemed to swallow him up, it was so big.

It felt like a hug.

Turning his attention back to his parents, he saw how his mother held her purse with a critical eye as his father stared at him.

“Tim,” his father started, “do you know how this happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Timothy frowned as he recalled the events. “I was separated from mother, and the purse fell. I slipped out to the floor, and then the strangest thing happened! Giant vines were growing within the building! I saw them grow as if I was watching a time lapse right in front of me! Then all sorts of flowers began to bloom… and I got this intense pain…” He felt a blush rise up to his cheeks.

Father’s eyebrows furrowed. “And then? What happened next?”

“Well, I was suddenly bigger and all of my clothes had been torn to shreds. I’m really, truly sorry about that.”

He saw his father sigh through his nose. “That’s… not something you could control. You don’t look like you were hurt by it.”

Timothy could only nod.

“So what did you do? How did you leave?”

“There was a side door that wasn’t touched by the plants yet. I… I didn’t know what to do, so I… I thought I would try to find you. So I left. I heard how the building was groaning under the weight of all the plant life… and I ran.”

The alleyway was silent at Timothy’s confession. Timothy… Timothy then realized that the sounds of people talking, shouting, screaming, was closer than before. And somehow so were the sirens.

“Did anyone see you?” Mother suddenly asked.

Snapping his attention to her, Timothy saw how sharp her eyes were.

“…no.” At least he didn’t think so.

She pursed her lips. Turning her attention to his father, she said, “pick Timothy up. We’re going home.”

Father jolted at this. “Wha- Janet! Shouldn’t we take him to the hospital?”

“We’ll have his doctor come to him,” she snapped. “I’d rather we get him to the mansion than going to a place where we’re _bound_ to be unnecessarily questioned.”

Father huffed at this. “Okay fine. Come here kiddo.”

And just as easily as before, father picked Timothy up. But unlike before, father was holding Timothy like one would with a baby. Or at least that’s how Timothy thought he was being held. It was… nice. Being held by his father in that way.

Timothy thinks he might want to be held like that again.

“Tsk.” Mother clicked her tongue. “You got your feet bloodied.”

Timothy blinked rapidly at that. He… had hurt his feet?

Twisting his leg, he put his foot up towards his face. Imbedded into his feet were some pieces of glass. Some parts were only cut instead. He frowned at this.

“We’ll get that taken care of later.” Mother said, as if she were cutting father off before he could speak. Timothy wasn’t quite sure since it only happens every so often.

He could feel his father’s grumbles through his chest.

“Just stay here until I get the car.” Mother said. Her voice and gaze held no argument. Mother was a very determined person, after all.

And so there was not so little Timothy, being held in his father’s arms like all other children for the first time. He felt the warmth of his father’s embrace. Each and every breath and heartbeat.

Timothy thinks this is the most he’s interacted with his father in years.

Certainly Timothy’s birthday was shaping up to be the most interesting birthday in the history of existence. He just hopes no one got hurt due to the strange flora. Well, no one besides him and his feet.

His father didn’t speak to him. He didn’t speak to his father. It was fine.

Timothy grew tired as he waited.

He didn’t want to fall asleep. He was outside, he had to burn everything into his mind.

And maybe, just maybe, his parents would allow him to go outside again. And then things wouldn’t go wrong.

Maybe, maybe, this wasn’t all some sort of fluke. That Timothy really, truly, grew big while giant plants overtook his parent’s company. Hopefully, hopefully, Timothy wouldn’t grow small again. He’ll just stay big and grow like normal children do.

Maybe… hopefully…

He almost fully dozed off when the sound of a car came rumbling by. He felt how his father stiffen at the sound, and he too, froze.

“Come on Tim,” he heard his father mutter, “that’s our ride.”

It was strange, how everything felt as his father carried him over to the car. How the arms cradled him rather than just a hand. How not all of him was supported. How he was dangling yet not in a similar way when he settled down. How his whole body ached in a way he hasn’t quite understood nor quite known until that moment, like some sort of epiphany. How his feet stung in a way never truly known before much like his body.

It was strange, how everything looked. The darkened alleyways made the sunlight all the brighter as all the reflective surfaces made it even more so. Tim had thought of it before, how he imagined the world to be so… _big_ yet now it wasn’t _as_ big before. Logically, he knew that since he’s a child everything was going to be big nonetheless. But no matter what, the sky was so far away. With all those multihued flower petals danced upon the wind currents as if they were fairies dancing to their own music.

It was so strange, how everything smelt. The alleyway smells of probably rotten foods and who knows what else were starting to disperse as the scent of his father’s calonge helped keep the alleyway scents away. How even as he was further away from the building, he could still smell the strange scents of those strange flowers. Underneath the alleyway, his father’s cologne, and even street food that somehow came back to him, that smell of flowers remained.

It was so strange, how everything sounded. How his father’s heartbeat and steady breathing weren’t as loud as before. How the sounds of people’s voices came together in a strange symphony with sirens going off in places he didn’t know where. How he thinks those sirens that seemed to be everywhere yet nowhere at once must be from police cars. And just like the flowers dancing in the wind, the scent being carried over much like the petals, the sounds of Drake Industries groaning and even creaking still reached his ears.

Timothy was in a strange new world.

He thinks he likes it.

Father shuffled Timothy around to free one arm in order to open the back car door. Once opened, he set Timothy down into the seat.

The car smelled the same as the one Timothy and his mother went into the city in. The seats really were made out of leather and the texture was so much smoother than it looked. For some odd reason it reminded him of butter. It was very soft to the touch and quite comfortable to sit in. It was incredibly cold, but since the air conditioner was on, it made sense that it cooled down quite a bit. Although due to this cold, it once again reminded him of butter… only straight from the fridge.

“Think you can buckle yourself?” Father asked, bringing Timothy out of his thoughts.

Can he?

“I can try.” He says instead of his insecurities.

Looking around, he found the belt. Honestly this would be simple enough in theory. But Timothy had never done it before. He was worried that he could get it wrong. If he did get it wrong then perhaps he wouldn’t ever go into a car again.

Timothy quite liked being a car, he found.

Reaching, Timothy grabbed the metal piece, and pulled it towards him. It gave. He then went to find the buckle part on his other side and easily found it. Putting the metal key into the slot, he pushed a little and heard a click. He pulled away. The belt stayed.

Pride grew within Timothy. He did it! Turning to his father, Timothy smiled at him.

The car door was closed. Timothy’s father wasn’t there.

Looking forward, he saw how his father was getting into his own seat.

Timothy’s smile fell. It made sense. If Timothy was able to properly buckle his belt, then there would be no need for his father to check. And Timothy was able to do it properly.

He was just slightly surprised by how focused he was, that he didn’t hear the door close. Or the front passenger seat’s door open. Internally he scolded himself for not paying attention. He should know better.

The car rumbled… and his mother began to drive the three of them away.

Now able to stare out of the window, Timothy took the whole world in. Skyscrapers reached up and beyond. All sparkling like the one his parents owned. There were other buildings of various sizes that matched the material of the ones that surrounded him in the alleyways, but what took Timothy’s breath away was the giant tree growing in the not so distance.

It was larger than any other tree. Larger than a redwood. The trunk was absolutely thick, with vines crawling up it. Gigantic branches reached outward and upward. They were full to the brim with leaves, creating shade for anything underneath its shadow.

Timothy thinks that there might’ve been a connection between the vines that overtook his parent’s building and that giant tree.

Slowly, the car rolled to a halt at a stop light, Timothy duly noted. Stop lights weren’t as amazing as the giant tree.

And then something incredible happened. A bat shaped shadow flew through the air by a string! Eyes widening, Timothy tried his best to look closer. To his complete astonishment, it was a man dressed up as a bat! The wings were actually a cape cut to that shape! Or at least, it looked like a man.

The man flew in an arc, his cape billowing out behind him.

Then, flying behind him, was a smaller person wearing bright colors of red, yellow, and green with black on the cape. It could’ve been another man, but they were smaller in height. Like perhaps a teenager. He watched as they flew by with a grace that bat man didn’t quite have. Then the person did something extraordinary! They did a flip in the air! But the person didn’t stop, oh no they did not. They continued!

One.

Two.

Three.

Four!

This strange person was flying behind someone dressed up as a bat, and had done four flips in the air! He watched as the person reached out with something in their hand and a _line_ shot out! 

Timothy… Timothy was in _awe._

Together the duo continued to fly over to the tree. As he watched them fly away, he began to wonder why they were going _to_ the tree. Could it be that the tree was incredibly unnatural and that those flying bat and… acrobat(?) people were going to try to do something about it?

He didn’t know, but he very much wanted to find out. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I waited a bit before posting this since I finished the next chapter and am trying to write chapter five. I’m honestly thinking about kinda keeping these chapters short or something. But, well, we’ll just have to see how this all will turn out huh?

Timothy’s doctor had pulled back from him. The older man’s mustache looked like it was wiggling, if only a little bit, as he scrutinized Timothy’s form.

According to mother, while she was getting the car, she not only called his doctor, but sent people to grab Timothy an array of clothes. And on their ride back from the city, it was quiet. Unlike the city itself. It was… somber.

Timothy’s doctor was already there by the time they got back, and Timothy could see the shock on the doctor’s face. But the man quickly went to work. Starting with Timothy’s feet.

So there Timothy was, in his room, on the bed that was never used, in his new, better fitting clothes, finishing up with his examination.

(It was perhaps the strangest of them all. Being in his home which he lived in his whole life and seeing how much smaller it was. He could see almost everything now. How his little house sat upon its table; how the once empty wardrobe now held clothes. The one lone painting hung above the dresser, and the lack of mirrors within the room itself. It felt… suffocating.)

And the doctor was giving a heavy sigh.

That wasn’t good. It never was.

“Well?” Mother demanded.

“How is he?” Father asked.

Timothy watched as his doctor pursed his lips. His mouth wasn’t quite hidden behind his mustache. The man turned to his parents and said, “he’s fine. His only problem is his feet. As long as they’re clean and the bandages are properly changed, he won’t get an infection.”

Mother didn’t quite like the information as much as father did. Timothy could tell.

“What do you mean?” Mother’s voice held some ire in it.

It felt like a rarity for Timothy to hear that in her voice.

“Does this mean Tim’s…?” Father trailed off, turning to look at Timothy.

Timothy looked back and forth between his parents and his doctor. He too, wanted to know what this meant.

“It means your son is a perfectly healthy, normal nine year old boy. Happy birthday by the way, Timothy.” The doctor said, only adding the last part as if he had just remembered it.

“Thank you, doctor.” Timothy nodded.

His doctor nodded back.

“You must understand, Mrs. Drake, Mr. Drake, that this is something remarkable and never heard of before. Your son is truly a marvel and has baffled my colleagues and I for as long as he has been alive. Mrs. Drake, you didn’t even know you were pregnant until after you came to us due to an unknown illness, and ended up giving birth to the boy. Born the size of a peanut, yet perfectly healthy I might add. No disabilities of any kind other than the sheer size of him. The amount of math we did in order to figure out his nutrition plan, the probability of growth, how much to give him for vaccinations… I could go on, but you know all of this. And here we are, with your son suddenly roughly the size of your average nine year old boy-“

“What do you mean ‘roughly the size of your average nine year old boy’? He  _ is  _ the size of your average nine year old boy!” Father suddenly bursted out.

It felt even more rare for Timothy to see his father express rage. It felt rather strange… and a little frightening.

Timothy’s doctor was calm. A different sort of calm that his mother was. “He just so happens to be a little smaller. If he were born normally, he would probably just always be only a little smaller than everyone else like he is right now. If your son truly stays like this and doesn’t regress, I wouldn’t be surprised if he never reach five feet and eight inches.”

He watched as his father cool down at the doctor’s words. “So. Is he going to grow up like a normal kid or is he going to shrink back down?”

Timothy, too, wanted to know.

Timothy wanted to go outside and play like other children. Go to the park, make friends. He wanted to go to school and learn things that other children were learning.

He wanted to find out about the giant plants and the bat man and his partner.

Absentmindedly, he began to think about the status of his body. That he was now tall enough to read the books in their library. That he could go fix himself meals in the kitchen. It would be much easier to learn how to cook this way.

But he also began to think about how he… felt. How much heavier he was. How his heart began to pound faster. In fact he began to feel the palm of his hands get sweaty. And he… began to ache.

“I’m not-“

A scream tore its way out of Timothy’s throat as a sudden, sharp, intense pain rippled throughout his body. The pain was just as enormous as before. His eyes were practically glued shut. He could not hear anything over the sound of his screams.  _ It hurt so much. _

Timothy… might’ve blacked out. For the next thing he knew, he was underneath a very heavy cloth.

His whole body was shivering. His eyes leaked tears. He doesn’t recognize the textile to any of his blankets…

“Timothy?” A loud soft voice calls for him.

Somehow he turned into a fish as his mouth only opened and closed continuously with no noise getting out. Shuddering a deep breath, Timothy tried again.

“I’m here!” He called out.

Still shivering, Timothy tried to find an exit. That was, until the cloth began to lift up, and light began to enter through a growing tunnel. There, at the end of the tunnel, was a giant figure.

That unmistakable mustache, the receding hairline, and that odd freckle pattern that looked an awful lot like the constellation Oron on the left cheek. There was no doubt about it. It was his doctor.

And if his doctor was that big then…

More tears fell from Timothy’s eyes at the realization. He was small again.

He’ll never go out to be with other children and play. He’ll never make friends. He’ll never go to parks. He’ll never go to school. He’ll never… he’ll never…

He’ll never get to experience the world like he did earlier that day, ever again. With strange plants, growing boys, bat men, and their colorful partners.

The rest of the doctor’s visit went by like a haze. He hardly remembered anything that had happened. For all that Timothy knew, he might’ve automatically settled down. All he knew was that one moment the doctor was staring at him through his now, very ill fitted clothes, and the next, he was sitting in his special chair, wearing his usual clothes.

He recognized the space as the living room. With a nonfictional fireplace, and an abundance of expensive furniture and ornaments. What he was surprised about was the fact that not only was his house open, but his mother had set up a chair in front of him.

“So you’re back with us.” Mother stated. It was like she was talking about the weather with how dry her tone was. “You were in this very odd state between being settled down and being rowdy.”

“I’m sorry, mother.” Timothy apologized.

“Speak louder, Timothy.”

“Yes mother.” He did as told. He then repeated, “I’m sorry, mother.”

She hummed. Her frozen eyes studied his tiny form. “Your father and I talked.”

A chill ran through him. It’s hardly a good thing when his parents talked to each other. Or at least, tell him that they’ve talked to each other.

“We have agreed that you are to never go outside again.” And there it was. She always did get to the point of things. “Before you even say a thing, Timothy, I will explain as to why. It is incredibly dangerous out there, especially in this city of Gotham. Do you know how incredibly lucky you are? Who knows what would have happened to you. You could have been trampled. Any plants you came into contact with could have been so poisonous by just breathing in any pollen or something of the like. You could have been attacked by some desperate street rat taking advantage of the chaos. You could have gotten lost and eventually die of starvation. Infection. Dehydration. Heat stroke or hyperthermia. I could go on.”

“No, mother. I understand.” He did. He really, truly did.

Her stare did wonders to make him feel even smaller. “See to it. Now. Your father and I will be very busy with fixing up the company. Afterwards we will leave the country.”

“Yes, mother.”

She did not elaborate as to where they were going. She hardly does.

She left. He sat there. All alone.

With a burning desire to go outside once again. To see plants grow at an astonishing rate. To suddenly grow along with them. To run in alleyways, and see blue skies with clouds and smoke and, and, and-

That flying man bat and the colorful acrobat flipping through the air.

Timothy… wanted to meet them.

Afternoon turned into evening. Evening turned into night. And even as Timothy know his parents had already retired to bed, he did not. Instead he did one of his guilty pleasures.

Rummaging around his secret compartments, Timothy found what he needed.

Ever so silent he walked through his tiny house. Ever so silent he walked through the front door. Ever so silent did he tie the rope he had created around the sturdy, stone column that held up one of the balconies. Making sure that it wasn’t frayed, Timothy threw the rest of the rope down the table. Once done, he made sure to be careful to hold onto the knots with his hands as his feet were still injured.

Going at a snail's pace, Timothy climbed down the rope. It could have been minutes, it could have been an hour. He did not pay any attention to the time. No, instead, when he got to the bottom of the rope, he let himself fall that last centimeter to the floor. Pain stung his feet.

A quick check of each foot showed that they were still okay. No blood bleeding through. That was good.

Immediately did he make a beeline over to the window. Grabbing the silky fabric, Timothy began to climb. It was always harder to climb the curtains rather than the rope, but Timothy made due. He always did.

Finally he made it to the windowsill. There, he stood as close as he dared to the glass. Blue eyes reflecting back to him. Even a baby could see the sadness within them. But he paid no attention to that. No, Timothy looked beyond that.

He looked at the outside world.

Bright moonlight shone down from the heavens above. Stars of varying light twinkled in the inky darkness. Not a single cloud in sight. The Drake garden were illuminated by the light, yet it looked the same as it ever had.

Timothy secretly wanted to see different types of flowers bloom in their garden.

Mother only accepts the ones that were strong and survived the harsh Gotham winters.

Even if Timothy never went outside, he knew how horrid their winters were. Either by watching the weather from inside, being allowed to take in the news, or even word of mouth from the few people who were allowed within the Drake Manor.

But now it was summer, and the whole garden was in bloom, in the moonlight. And what felt far into the distance was the fabled Wayne Manor.

Timothy knew of Bruce Wayne. He never seen the man in real life. Mr. Wayne was in the news often enough. Timothy even recognized Bruce Wayne’s laugh once, when his parents held a party. The man had laughed so loud that Timothy heard it from his spot in his little house.

Mr. Wayne seemed to be a good man. Timothy sometimes wondered what would happen if they met.

As his thoughts turn to Bruce Wayne, his young mind also went back to the flying duo he had seen earlier that day. Perhaps Mr. Wayne would tell him about those strangers. Timothy was positive that his parents would never tell them who they were. They hardly tell him anything.

A deep yearning began to burn within him. He wanted so many things.

Whispering so quietly, that he could hardly hear even himself, he began to put his wants into words.

“I want to grow. I want to go outside. I want to meet new people. I want to meet the duo from the sky. I want to find out why there was a giant tree in the middle of the city. I want…” He licked his lips. His mouth suddenly felt dry. “I want to make friends.”

The yearning got worse. The  _ burning  _ got worse.

A pain so familiar arose, and something in his mind clicked.

His eyes blew wide as he saw shock reflect back at him from the window. His skin became paler, and his whole body felt clammy.

He needed to get his pajamas off.  _ Now. _

Going the fastest he ever went, Timothy stripped. The moment he was able to get the last item off, he saw it. His whole body began to  _ grow. _

Timothy forced himself not to black out. Not to close his eyes. He needed to  _ see  _ this. His body seemed to stretch before his eyes. The whole room steadily grew smaller.

Watching the speed of his growth spurt, he realized that he wouldn’t be able to stand on the windowsill much longer. Timothy forced himself to move to the edge, and with a grip of someone in pain, he went to clutch said edge. The rest of his body dangled. Soon enough, it would no longer be needed as his feet touched the floor, and his arms bent in order for him to comfortably hold onto the windowsill.

He knew his bandages were torn to shreds. Timothy was no fool. He’ll just have to put new bandages around them later.

But for now… for now, Timothy shakily stood up. And he saw.

He was big again.

His pajamas were tiny.

The world outside felt closer than before.

_ ‘I…’  _ Timothy began to think,  _ ‘I must investigate this.’ _


	4. Chapter 4

It was a week or so later that Timothy came to a conclusion. That he was able to grow to the size of a child, and that it held a time limit. Although the time limit seemed to have grown each time. Not only that, but it took time before he could grow again. Perhaps like recharging.

Timothy wanted to tell his parents this development, he really did… he just never got the chance.

And then he got the craziest idea ever.

That he could… that he could _sneak out._

It was such a ludicrous idea. Simply awful. But it wouldn’t _leave him._

He wasn’t quite sure how he got it in the first place. Maybe it was because his mind wandered to stories of children and teens sneaking out. Maybe it was because he saw a fly managing to escape through a crack that would more than likely be fixed as soon as it was found. Really, it was a mystery. One moment he didn’t have that thought, and then the very next it just… popped into his mind.

Timothy wouldn’t go far, he had truly decided, if actually went through with sneaking out. Perhaps he would walk through the garden. Go and feel the petals on his fingers. Or even walk over to the more forested area that separated Drake Manor and Wayne Manor. Of course Timothy wouldn’t go onto Wayne property. He would just… experience being under a tree was all.

And as his parents walk out the door, having finished what they needed to do at the company and thus able to go back to traveling around the world, Timothy realized that it would probably be easier to sneak out this way. After all, his parents wouldn’t be back five to six months from now. So he waited until he was absolutely sure that any cleaning staff had left before acting.

(After all, mother and father were kind enough to let him have summer vacation, so he had no tutors to watch out for. But even then they only came in during the day.)

So, after Timothy grew, and had shaken off the pain, he went underneath the bed. Nails carefully latched onto a loose floorboard. Slowly it rose with other boards attached to it. Underneath the floorboards, was a hidden space. And in that hidden space, held a box filled with clothes. Off to the side was a bundled up makeshift rope.

Timothy knew his mother would go and get rid of the clothes that she had bought for him on his birthday. After all, what purpose would they serve if the intended person could not fit in it? Thankfully he was able to hide some of the less fancy ones away. It was a tad strange she didn’t get rid of it yet, as they were still put away.

Well, the ones Timothy didn’t hide away, anyways.

(Timothy did not know if anyone knew about the hidden compartment. He knew that his parents did not build this manor. Rather they had bought it instead. It was pure fact that if his mother had known about this she would have probably had it fixed up. But since it was still there, it was unlikely that she had known.)

Quickly picking random parts of an outfit, Timothy speedily put them on. He then went back under to grab the rope he had made for this larger size of his. It was a tad harder this time round, but he managed to find enough materials that no one would realize it had gone missing.

He could feel his heart pound as he tied the rope around the bed leg, much like in the stories. He stopped for a moment. His hands were shaking.

Taking a deep breath in, he forced himself to calm down.

It would be okay. He would be okay.

There were no screens at the windows in his room. For the windows were always closed. If for whatever reason the windows had to be opened, Timothy could not be in the room. However this rule did not apply to anywhere else in the house. Timothy was actually quite thankful for the fact there were no screens in these windows, as he wasn’t sure how to take screens out of windows. His little house had none for him to practice with.

But he could open the window. It was the same type as the one in his little house after all. And yet… and yet he wasn’t opening it.

He just stood there.

Looking at it.

He could stop what he was doing. He could put away the makeshift rope, return the pieces that made it up. He could just stand or sit in his room and just experience his own little world as it was. He could try to forget everything and return to his normal, daily life.

Or… or he could actually open the window.

Take a deep breath in.

Heave a deep breath out.

Shaking fingers unlocked frigid metal. Trembling arms lifted the wooden frame. Cold sweat was cooled down even more by a gentle breeze.

He had done it. He had opened the window. And since he made it this far, he might as well continue.

Gathering the rest of the rope, Timothy threw it out the window. Poking his head out, he saw how it all tumbled down. His heart nearly stopped when he saw it nearly brush the ground.

Even though Timothy was good at math, it was hard for him to measure out how long it was of a drop between his bedroom window to the ground. Especially when his measurements felt off for being larger than usual. Or at least larger for him. So what he did was add more material than not. It was better to be on the safe side after all.

But this was good. It means that Timothy was sure to be able to get in and out. The real test, however, was if everything would actually _hold._ He was larger now. Heavier. He could get seriously injured if something went wrong.

He then rugged at the rope once more, making sure it was stable.

Timothy took a deep breath.

Timothy began to crawl out the window.

 _‘This is just like getting off the table.’_ Timothy tried to calm himself. _‘You just have to remember this. It’s just like the table.’_

A particularly strong gust of wind made him swing.

He could feel his heart pounding ever so fast as he began to sweat even more.

“You can do it. Come on, don't be afraid.” He whispered to himself even though he had squeezed his eyes shut.

He will get down. Even if it means forcing himself to do so.

And then his feet touched the ground. His shoes softly crunched the grass underneath him. He looked down with wide eyes.

Ever so slowly did he let go of the rope. He was outside.

 _He_ was outside.

 _He_ was _outside._

_He was outside!_

A wave of unbridled tears flowed down chubby cheeks like waterfalls. He did not care that he was doing such a thing. _Timothy had snuck outside!_

Wind ruffled his hair. Almost as if it were playing with him. Then he turned his head and his breath caught in his throat. Somehow more tears began to fall.

The flowers in the garden were swaying oh so very gently in the wind. The moonlight illuminated it all, and it reminded him of that day out in Gotham. Because somehow, it was all so reminiscent of a fairytale. The air was… _fresh._ Just like when the maids had to open the windows for cleaning. The grass was no longer newly cut like it was on his birthday, so he did not smell that in the air. It was, however, cleaner than the air in Gotham. Timothy didn’t know how to describe it further than that.

Shakidly, Timothy took a step forward. Then another. And another. Until he was walking amongst the garden.

Reaching out, Timothy touched a flower petal. It was… so _soft._ So velvety. So smooth. Curious, Timothy went over to a different flower. This one was different. It wasn’t as soft, or smooth, or velvety as the other one. It’s texture was a little firmer, a little rougher, a little bit more fuzzy. Oh so very curious was Timothy. He had to know what other flower’s petals felt like. He continued on that fashion, touching all sorts of flowers. But he was careful in doing so. He was afraid what would happen if one of the gardeners were to find any flowers that were tampered with.

Soon enough, his eyes had wandered from the flowers to the trees.

Timothy… wanted to feel treebark.

Gently letting go of the flower, Timothy started to walk over to the forest. It… felt incredibly nice to walk on the lawn. Crickets were singing, and if Timothy had left earlier, he might’ve even seen fireflies dance around.

Maybe, if he grew brave enough, or reckless enough (oh he hopes not), he’ll go out when the fireflies began to do their dance.

Getting closer to the trees, their long shadows fell upon him. It was cooler, underneath their shade.

Trees that ranged from pine to oak were within the forest, he found. Trees that were native, trees that were nonnative. The smell they gave off was different from what he had experienced, but once he went close to some pine sap, he could really, truly, understand how strong the scent of pine was.

Reaching out, he touched the bark that wasn’t covered with sap, feeling how _rough_ and _craggy_ its surface was. Moving his arms, Timothy went to touch the pine needles. One poked his middle finger which caused him to yank his whole arm back. It wasn’t sharp, like an actual needle made out of metal, but it hurt. Ever so curious did he look close at the finger.

Not even a spot of blood.

He wandered around the area a little bit more, making sure that his home was still within his eyesight. Soon enough he wanted to lay down. To know what it was like to be on a patch of grass. To be underneath the trees in that way.

So he did. Timothy found a spot that was clear and clean of any animal droppings or even insects, and he laid himself down.

It was… soft. The grass was a tad itchy, and it tried to tickle his skin. His head was cushioned by it, yet the ground was hard. It wasn’t even and a little pebbly. But what truly took his breath away was seeing the stars through the canopy.

Eyes wide, he saw how the soft light of the moon trickled through the leafs, and the stars that twinkle in those gaps.

Silently were noises being made. Soft crunches of the ground reached Timothy’s ears.

He did not move. He did not breathe. He instinctively settled down, not knowing what to do.

Was it a person? Would Timothy be found? He was still large, and he knew that it wasn’t quite average for dolls to be life sized. Or at least that’s what he had been told anyways. Not only that, though, would be the fact that he was seemingly abandoned so close to Drake Manor. What would they think of him? What would they do with him?

The soft crunches became louder. Closer. And soon he realized that they didn’t quite sound like human footsteps. And how there were multiple of them.

Then, out of nowhere, a fawn’s face was above his. It sniffed at him, its snout blowing at his hair. Timothy could see its whiskers. He could see its fur. Its innocent brown eyes, full of curiosity.

And Timothy… was in awe.

Another deer came in to inspect him, one with antlers on its head. A buck. Then another, one without antlers. A doe. Then another, and another, and another.

Some were fawns, some were not. But nonetheless it was a whole _herd_ of deer. All inspecting him. Some even nibbled a little bit of his clothes or his hair.

Timothy would not move. He would not let this simply magical moment end.

But much like everything else wonderful in his life, it ended all too soon. Curiosity sated, the deer left him all alone on the forest floor.

Timothy breathes. Timothy stands up. Timothy goes back to his room. And Timothy… Timothy wants to go out _again._

By the time he had put everything away, had shrunken back down to his normal size, and had gone off to bed, plans were forming within his tiny little head. That night, he dreamed of a world just waiting to be discovered.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey I’m back! Yeah, it took a bit, but I was finally able to figure out exactly what I wanted to do with this chapter. Hope you enjoy it!

Each night Timothy snuck out. It became his new routine. Wait until the mansion was empty, grew big, and left. And each night he went a little further into the woods, hoping to see the deer again. And each night, his time grew longer.

For a little while he was okay with this. But his heart’s true desire was to go into Gotham. And so he began to act out his new plan. Once he was satisfied with his timeframe of growth.

Timothy grabbed the plainest set of clothing his mother had bought to put on. He was quite glad to nab it when he did, for the very next day his mother ordered the maids to get rid of all the clothing that ‘no longer fit him.’ He was actually quite glad that he managed to nab as much clothing as he did.

Unfortunately Timothy knew that these clothes would not fit him for long. He was a growing boy, and he was sure that his large state would grow alongside him. He will have to have a plan in order to get himself new clothing. Timothy was a smart boy after all. He would figure things out.

Or at least, he hoped he would.

Once he was done putting his clothes on, Timothy reached for a medium sized (or at least medium sized in his grown hand) pouch that he had made from blankets he had no use for. Within that pouch were items that Timothy’s little house no longer needed… as well as some items around the house proper that he was sure no one would miss. Just the small stuff. He just hopes that his mother would not notice the missing items once she came back with his father.

If things go according to plan, then Timothy would have money for his… adventures. The only downside is how would Timothy be able to continue doing such things in the future. He cannot continue this in case someone catches on. But he supposed that he would cross that bridge when he gets to it.

Unfortunately the only dent in his plan was a mode of transportation. He supposed that the only thing he could do, before being able to get some sort of ride, is to walk to and from Gotham proper.

Timothy felt that, should he not reach Gotham by his halfway mark, he would turn back and head back home.

With this in mind, Timothy began his plan.

He threw his makeshift rope out of the window once more. Then, making sure his pouch was secured in his pocket, Timothy began to descend.

It was less windy that night. Timothy was actually quite happy not to sway as much as the previous week. Truly it was a blustery week, that week. He felt like he would’ve nearly fell over just by standing!

As interesting as how the experience was, Timothy didn’t want to go out on such a day at his usual size. He feared he might be blown away.

But that was neither here nor there. Timothy had to focus on getting down the rope…

And getting to Gotham.

Touching down onto the grass, Timothy silently sighed a breath of relief. He had made it down. A quick check to his pouch was in order, however.

Giving it a quick pat showed that, yes, it was still there. Timothy was the type of child who wanted to make  _ sure _ that everything was in order. So, he took it out, and with a quick glance, he saw how it was all still in the bag. He gave a small smile of satisfaction from this.

Looking back up, Timothy worried about the window… and the rope. He worried that someone would try to enter the house. That his mother and father find out that a window had been open for quite some time without any supervision.

And yet, no one has ever tried to rob the house. And his parents haven’t come home… so. With that, Timothy decided that until he either learns of a way to make a ladder or an easier way to sneak out and back in, this would have to do.

With a quick nod to himself, Timothy ran to the forest. From there he would walk over to the road.

It was a cloudy night, so the lighting was less than desirable. However Timothy had been exploring the forest between properties for quite a time now. He knew a fair bit of the land. Even then he was still careful as to where he stepped. He didn’t want to trip. It wouldn’t do well if he got himself injured after all.

By the time Timothy managed to get to the road, he became nervous. So many things could go wrong. Death was mostly at the end of them. Punishment was at the end of others.

Steeling his nerves, Timothy started walking.

* * *

It’s been a good few years since Timothy first made his outing to Gotham. And he had continued to go out ever since.

Gotham… Gotham was awesome. In all senses of the word. It was grand. Beautiful. It was hideous. It was disgusting. It was kind. It was harsh.

_ It had Batman and Robin. _

Oh little Timothy’s heart and eyes grew wide with wonder when he was told of the duo’s names. After that Timothy really did everything within his power to find out about that duo…

And along the way Timothy learned about The Flying Graysons with their special flip…

And their son…

Who became Bruce Wayne’s ward…

And then everything made sense.

At some point, even though he couldn’t quite remember when this had happened, Timothy got his hands on a camera. It might’ve been with the help of the kind woman who gave him rides to and from Gotham. It could’ve been something he did all by himself.

But no matter what, Timothy found himself with a camera. And not long after he was able to get the bat’s routes down.

This was the start of Timothy’s bat and bird watching.

Unfortunately the dilemma of how to develop the pictures, as well as hiding them away, came into the scene.

Timothy was a smart boy. He did his research on developing photographs. And he found multiple places to hide such things from not only his parents, but the staff that had the potential to snoop.

That isn’t to say that Ms. Mac would do such a thing.

It’s the thought that counts.

Timothy… overall he loved going out into Gotham. It made him… feel things he couldn’t quite describe. He doesn’t think he could ever truly describe them if he was being honest.

What he did know, however, how sad and confused he was when he found out that Dick no longer was Robin. One day he just disappeared. But with a little digging he found that Dick had become Nightwing, and that he had moved to Blüdhaven.

And then Bruce Wayne took in another boy.

Who was the new Robin.

Who was at the party his parents were throwing.

Timothy hadn’t been this nervous since the last time his parents threw a party and had invited Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson… a year after he found out their identities.

Of course he did what he always did during parties. Dressed up nice, and sat prettily in his chair, away from it all. So that if anyone were to go… explore Drake Manor, they would find a little doll and not a little boy.

Just in case.

It  _ has  _ happened with children multiple times before.

He nearly broke every time.

Mother did say that children were cruel.

And yet he has seen glimpses of kind children. Hurt children.

Surely this means that not all children would be cruel.

But still he sat, far away from it all, on his chair. Thinking about when the party was over and his parents would be gone, he would go out to Gotham. Thinking about taking photos…

_ And heard footsteps. _

Immediately he tried to make his breathing even more minimal. Forced his heart to beat ever so slowly. Make his smile so fake it was real.

He would not move.

The door to his room creaked open.

Someone was here.

He heard them breathe as they slowly shuffled inside.

“Huh.” A strange, young, voice muttered. “A doll house. Not like that’s fucking weird as hell or anything.”

The person swore?????

Completely baffled by the language Timothy almost didn’t hear the person come up to his house. Almost.

Small tremors trembled the house as the person fiddled with it. Most likely looking for the clasp.

Everyone who ever finds him gets the house open eventually.

Curious as to who it would be, Timothy continued to stare ahead with a little bit more attention than usual. It certainly wasn’t an adult. The voice was much too young. Not to mention it was usually the children who were brought over that always found him.

Click when the clasp. And then the house split… carefully?

No one opened his house that slowly before.

A boy a few years or so older than Timothy stood there. Black hair, blue eyes, freckles, a suit that fit the occasion… another new child.

Who was he?

“Huh.” The boy said again. His eyes were staring at Timothy. Timothy was staring at him.

He could see curiosity written all over the boy’s face. It was like looking at an open picture book. But he could also see hesitation. Why would the boy be hesitating? Perhaps he knew he wasn’t supposed to be here? That he could be punished?

Not every child that found him was punished. Maybe this one would be.

Timothy felt a twang of sympathy for the boy. Going through punishments were never fun, but were a necessity.

They needed to be reminded of their place after all.

(Although perhaps the boy was a bit like him. Exploring was rather fun, and if so, then he desperately hoped the boy wouldn’t get caught.)

Finally the boy did what all children do when they come across young Timothy. He went to pick him up.

Timothy was prepared for this. He would not cry out. He would not wince. He would endure any attempts to break him beyond his limits.

Children were cruel to dolls after all. Dolls do not feel so they do not complain. If dolls do not complain then the children would continue until the dolls have been destroyed.

And then the children would be given a new doll.

A gentle, soft, touch nearly made him jolt.

The boy’s surprisingly large hands held Timothy in a… not tight hold? But it wasn’t loose either?

Faint memories of how his last nanny held him emerged in his mind.

The boy was… being kind to Timothy?

Why?

His limbs dangled as he was moved into a better grip. But still not hurting.

“You’re soft?” The boy asked quietly. It registered that he had an accent of some sort.

Timothy was soft.

A finger poked his hair. A snort. “Your hair feels super fake with gel though.”

His hair did have gel in it. It must look nice for special events.

“… the Drakes must’ve paid a lot of money to make you look this real.” Timothy caught a glimpse of a frown.

…it finally clicked that the boy was…  _ talking  _ to Timothy. Why?

Who was this boy? Why was he so… so…  _ strange. _

None of the other children talked to him.

“Ya know, between you and me, I hate this type of shit.” The boy continued. “Throwing money around to show what they can get that no one else can. Makes me fucking sick. This whole party makes me wanna puke.”

It clicked. He sounded like the people from Crime Alley.

“Them Ritchy Rich folks can suck it. Well, except for Bruce. I think he’s genuinely trying.” The boy then scoffed. “But he sure as hell has a long way to go. I think I can get him to practically cut his own salary in half by the end of the year. Would certainly help with giving money to those who need it.”

_It was Jason Todd._ _Jason Todd was holding him. Robin was holding him._

Timothy had to do everything within his power not to do anything. He just… just  _ couldn’t  _ pop to life and say ‘I’m your biggest fan!’ Or something crazy like that. That would… would be just… just… oh he couldn’t even put it into  _ words.  _ Oh he was a mess, just a mess.

He just hoped that Jason didn’t notice it.

“But I dunno if you know any of that. Yer just a doll yeah?”

For some reason his heart dropped at that. But Jason was correct. He was just a doll.

But at the same time he was wrong. Timothy wasn’t a doll. He was a  _ boy.  _ A  _ human. _

Jason hummed. “Ya know, I think I know a lot of kids who would like to play with you. I’m sure you don’t get to have a lot of fun here. I wouldn’t be surprised if you never left this room.”

Even though Jason thought Timothy was a doll, he was still talking to him.

Why?

Jason Todd was such a strange boy.

Then Jason held Timothy closer to his face. Timothy could see the little green flakes in Jason’s eyes. The way the boy furrowed his eyebrows. How he frowned.

“I bet you don’t get much love here huh? Rich people don’t really give a shit for their stuff other than they have it. Kinda like dragons and their hoarding shit.” Jason poked Timothy’s cheek and startled. “Yer warm.”

Timothy’s heart could’ve stopped.

Please don’t realize Timothy’s real. Please don’t realize Timothy’s real. Please don’t realize Timothy’s real.  _ Please don’t realize Timothy is real _ .

Mother and father wouldn’t like it if they found out that someone had found Timothy without their permission. And never,  _ ever _ , was it a child.

“What are you doing.” Mother’s frigid voice cut through.

Jason tensed. But he didn’t squeeze Timothy. No, instead Timothy was pulled towards Jason’s chest.

Slowly, Jason turned around.

Timothy didn’t need to see his mother to know that she was staring at them with ire.

All was silent. Mother never did like to repeat herself.

“I was exploring.” Jason finally spoke.

“I can clearly see that.” Oh his mother was truly upset. “Let me see what you have there.”

Instantly Jason bristled. “I ain’t stealing anything!” He hissed. But he still pulled Timothy away from him. Timothy let his head lull as he faced his mother.

Her eyes were sharp. Her eyes could slash. Timothy was in trouble. He was always in trouble when the children found him.

“Give it to me.” She said.

…

…

…

Mother called him an it? Mother had never done that before.

“I ain’t hurting him or nothin’.” Jason called him a him. But why did he say hurting? Didn’t he think Timothy was a doll?

Mother laughed at the statement. “Silly boy, it’s just a doll. Dolls don’t get hurt.” Her eyes then focused onto Timothy. “Broken, on the other hand, they very much could be. Now. Give it back to me before you shatter it all over the floor.”

Jason flinched. Sympathy grew even more. Jason was probably not used to being punished.

However, despite how Timothy  _ should  _ be used to his mother’s punishments, this one felt… worse than usual.

Was it because mother called him an it?

Why wasn’t Jason giving him back to his mother?

“You really don’t have a lot of faith in a lot of people do you?” Jason asked.

Oh. Oh dear. He shouldn’t have said that.

Mother became absolutely  _ cold.  _ “My little doll there cost me more than you could ever  _ understand _ . You  _ must  _ get it into your head; how I do not wish to get something like it to be destroyed in the hands of someone who doesn’t even know its worth.” She spoke slowly. Deliberately. She was chaisting Jason.

“Now.” She held out her hand. “Give it to me.”

Jason didn’t. Why wasn’t he? Then, probably realizing that he was in a losing battle, he walked to Timothy’s mother. Timothy was being handed over.

“I think a doll that is as realistic as that is wasted on someone as fake as you.” Was the last thing Jason said before he walked away.

Timothy… stayed silent.

Mother fumed.

He knows he would be punished so much for what he was going to do but…

“He didn’t hurt me.” Timothy whispered.

Mother’s grip hurt.

“And what.” Mother ground out. “Could you possibly mean by that?”

He didn’t tremble in her grasp.

“He held me gently. He wasn’t going to drop me.”

Mother didn’t like that. She held him up to her face. Timothy nearly trembled.

“You do realize,” she began, “that you have disobeyed me.”

Bright red nails poked sharply at his cheek. The same one that Jason had touched. “You had spoken while you were to be settled down. You must be punished.”

Timothy would not cry. He was to be punished anyway. But he had to let her know.

Smoothly did his mother walk over to his house. She opened a door, he could hear it, and the next thing he knew, Timothy was in a closet.

“Your proper punishment will start once the party is done.” Mother said as she had him stand perfectly within the closet. There was nothing inside except for him. “Until then stay in there and think about what you have done.”

She closed the door.

The house shook.

A click.

“Remember, my doll, what you are to others.” Mother’s muffled voice told him.

And then she was gone.

Timothy was awful for talking. He shouldn’t have… he… he…

Mother called him an it. Because to everyone else he was to be a doll.

Maybe… maybe to make mother happy he should…

An involuntary shiver ran down his spine.

Maybe when he gained enough courage he would start calling himself an it whenever he was settled down. But for now, he was still a he because… because…

Because that’s what Jason called him.

Timothy thinks that Jason is a very kind boy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry for the short chapter, but I wanted to try to update at least three stories today, even if the updates are small. I might come back at a later point and update it, but I don’t really know. Anyway I hope you like it! Oh!
> 
> Warning for emotional abuse for this chapter.

After that night Timothy had met Jason he was… more determined to get pictures of Robin. And he might have snuck a few of Jason with Bruce. Timothy wasn’t quite sure why he was doing this. Not until one night he was in Gotham and saw two boys hanging out.

And he found out they were brothers.

There was something about hearing the oldest say ‘I’m your big brother, silly’ and ruffled the younger’s hair that clicked for Timothy.

He wanted that. He wanted Jason to be his big brother.

When that realization hit, Timothy blushed and hid away in his home for a whole week.

To make things worse, his parents came home not long after.

Mother and Father allowed him to sit with them in the living room. Provided he was in his designated spot and was reading a book. Except he wasn’t reading. Not really. He was still thinking about Jason and how nice it would be if they were to play games like the brothers did in stories and in Gotham.

Jason would surely win most games as he was bigger and stronger. Perhaps Timothy would win at things like cards… or board games. Maybe Jason would take Timothy out for some ice cream.

Timothy never gained the courage to try ice cream.

But then his Father said something to him.

“Tim.” Father said. “Timothy.”

Timothy looked up from his book to see his father. Father was sitting in his chair, newspaper in hand. Front page showed Bruce Wayne and Jason Todd.

“Yes father?” He asked politely.

His father’s grey eyes stared at him. Almost as if he was he thought of saying ‘never mind.’ It was what happened most of the time after all. To Timothy’s surprise his father asked, “what’s on your mind?”

Timothy blinked. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” his father shifted in his leather chair, “you haven’t exactly been reading your book right? You’re just on the same page.”

The sound of clothes ruffling slightly. This caught mother’s attention.

He was going to be in trouble for not actually reading.

“I,” Timothy stopped for a second. His eyes moved without permission to his father’s paper. “I was thinking about something.”

His eyes went back to his father’s face to see a look of bafflement on it. Slowly did he blink. “About what?”

Timothy swallowed. “If I could have a friend.”

Everything stopped.

“T-Tim, bud, when-what?” His father sputtered.

He didn’t even see his mother to know her eyes were boring into his tiny skull.

“They don’t even _have_ to be a friend.” Timothy backpedaled, realizing a little to late he put emphasis on a word. Timothy was never supposed to do that. It was back talking if he did that. He did his best not to blush. “Just another child, they don’t have to be the same age as me, to come over and… talk about books.” He finished lamley.

Tick tack tick tack his mother’s heels crossed over the stone floor to reach him.

“Books? Only books?” His father asked, clearly baffled at his request and answer.

Mother was standing over Timothy. Tall as a mountain. A perfect eyebrow rose. “If you wanted to talk about books, Timothy, you could just talk about them with your tutors.”

“Yes-“

“Then why ever would you want a friend?”

Timothy would not look at the newspaper. Timothy would not look at the newspaper. Timothy would _not look at the newspaper._

Mother looked at the newspaper.

He could feel her cold fury as she connected the dots instantly.

Timothy was in trouble.

“You do realize,” mother’s voice sharp and frightening, “that Jason Todd is just a little street rat, taken in by Bruce Wayne as another charity case when the first one ran away.”

_No._

“He was gentle and he didn’t hurt me!” Timothy shouted as he jumped up from his chair. “He was kind and he talked to me and-“

“Timothy Jackson Drake!” Mother’s voice boomed all around, shaking Timothy to his core.

Oh. Oh no.

_Timothy had spoken out of turn. He had shouted. He had disrespected his mother._

_Mother had raised her voice._

“I do not understand why you are so obsessed with this boy, but this ends!” Mother pointed her finger to Timothy. And faintly he felt it was something akin to a sword, ready to impale him. But that was ridiculous. Mother would _never._

“You are forbidden to say his name, and you are forbidden to see anything that has that disgusting street urchin in its contents!” As to prove her point, mother tore the newspaper out of father’s hands. “You will be punished!”

She snatched him from his spot, darkness all around him as he was fully encased by her hand. He could not stop the tremors. He could not stop the ragged breathing. He could not stop the heart pounding, pounding, trying to jump out of his chest.

He could not stop the tears.

It hurt when she dropped him into his chair, in his tiny house, and it hurt when she snapped at him to “stop that idiotic sniveling.”

Sharp, blood red nails found the corners of his mouth, forcing them up into a smile. “You are to be smiling Timothy. You are to watch me, and smile. Do be a doll and settle down for mother.”

He couldn’t stop himself from settling down. His smile was wider than usual.

The tears didn’t stop.

“You are a _Drake_. Drakes do not _cry._ ” Mother scolded. “I will leave momentarily, but by the time I come back, those tears will be _dry._ ”

She left.

He stopped crying.

She came back.

Newspaper held up in one hand, she held something up with the other. With a flick of her thumb, a little flame came to life.

Mother had a lighter. The flame went closer to the paper.

It caught on fire.

Timothy watched uselessly as hungry flames licked at the paper, eating it up. Soon enough the image of Jason Todd with his father, Bruce Wayne disappeared. Their smiling, happy, faces gone with orange embers and soon black soot.

Timothy did not cry. Timothy smiled like a good little doll.

Timothy was bad and so Timothy had to be punished.

Timothy would never raise his voice to his mother again. Timothy would not disrespect his mother again. Timothy would not say Jason Todd’s name again.

Timothy _would_ , however, continue to go out to see _Robin._ And when his parents went out to leave the country that night, he did just that.


End file.
